Sour Times

So we lost.
America, apparently, isn't quite ready for gay rights to be given their just desserts.  Thanks, Obama, for 'change'.  Thanks for putting it all in perspective with those lovely speeches, that deep voice, and the GQ looks.  Like Marc Antony, he of the infamous Cleopatra mess way back, you sure wax some deep, yet superficial politics.

A cute little exchange between two people on Facebook who happen to see eye-to-eye on the subject matter:

Me:  "So much for 'change' and 'yes we can'... but then again, I'm not surprised a year after."

Her:  "It sounds so good though! I love soaring rhetoric. Or is it soring...boring? snoring?" 

Me:   "Oh, absolutely... I mean, words can cause an effect when expressed eloquently.  However, when words lack actual action a year later and there were promises made to the gay community on December of 2008... and you have this eternal "let's wait 'til we have this or that victory secure," it can get boring."


Her:  "I just think he needs to say hey, I was just saying crap to get elected! I am a corporate stooge just like all the rest!"

Me:  "But of course he was. Even back then.  And newsflash: he WASN'T supposed to win. Hill was.  Had she, we wouldn't be having all this mess taking place. When the throne is not for you, and you get it... watch how the tremulous facade you created crumbles, leaving a nation divided, and those who were blinded by your GQ looks, now in defeat and skepticism.

"Now, Hill? You know what? As a feminist, I'd have literally drooled to see her wield power because a truly strong woman leading the way is a sight to behold---hell I'm aroused by powerful people only---, but some (powerless) people, perish the thought you mention anything negative about Obama! Off comes your head (ah, there it is. right on my neck. sewn back haphazardly by Nelida the cleaning lady at our office building.)! The Queen of Hearts hath spoken! Ivan said "Ha!" He must be burned at the stake."

(Hiccup.)

I reserve my right to yell that I don't really care for someone who promised... and has not delivered. A dime. The NYSE reaching 10 grand doesn't mean much if unemployment is at an all-time high not seen since the 70s.

But what do I know. I'm a passive aggressive fool who observes and has a big, fat, M. O. [Aside -- Oh, I am so milking this cow's words.]  So spoketh.

Now, here's the deal:

I do know without a shade of doubt in my mind that we will get it. I will not pass from this world without calling my man (whomever he is) my husband, and we'll have it all, warts included. We will have a strong female president, and She will Lead the Way.

But that it will happen that is something you and I will see pass. Not tomorrow, maybe not even next year, and it's always---never forget that---always darkest right before you know what.

The Power of the Faggot

Today I read an article that bothered me on a friend's page, and it wasn't about 2012, or Sarah Palin, or the Republican win in Virginia and New Jersey but an article written by Bill Browning, a gay activist who writes on The Bilberico Project.

The article, which appeared sometime last week, is titled "I Have a Problem With Faggots." It was thoughtful as it started describing how Balloon Boy rapped something openly homophobic---hatred is always learned at home. However, a piece that could have been empowering soon devolved into a walk through Memory Lane where humilation, degradation, innocence lost, rape, and suicide were the offspring of being called a faggot, of being seen as a fag, of being pointed at, mocked, persecuted, demoted as a human being. All that was missing were the bloodhounds snapping at his read end.

Here's my take on this article. [By the way, if you click on the title, highlighted above, you will be able to read his sad piece.]

This article is pretty problematic. I thought we were out of the shadows of the Eighties and the angst that coming to terms with ones' gayness meant as the Quilt and AIDS ravaged everyone it could with democratic precision.

Apparently there are some people who still languish in a sea of hurt.

The reason you go through an experience, good or bad, is to learn from it. Those who can't are forced to repeat, repeat, repeat, until the level is mastered. Bill Browning talks as if he was the only person who ever suffered abuse at the hands of schoolmates who probably really didn't know what the fuck they were engaging in and were really just chanting mindlessly to group-think.

Who hasn't had their hopes dashed because a parent or stern adult made a reference to the word "faggot" and you didn't know what it was about, what it was supposed to mean?

Who hasn't had their world turned upside-down because you weren't the class stud, rejected by the girls, and felt attractions you couldn't verbalize? And who hasn't met the menace of the class bully who made your life a living hell well past High School and made sure you knew that faggots and queers and maricas were rife for a punch in the face or public humiliation?

I went through quite a lot as a kid but this is not about me. What I believe is in the power of letting go and moving on whether I want to or not. Experience is experience and if your mind closes to progress it is forced to turn into mush and you die a slow death. We've all been at suicide's door... but while Browning says he "wishes he could forget them", by stating this, he is inviting more humiliations even from his own kind. No one wants to be around a self-defeating faggot. I sure don't.

Faggot is to gay men what nigger (or 'nigga') is to black men. The ultimate unmentionable word. However, it's become a symbol of liberation and iconoclastic strength: I stand out BECAUSE I'm a flaming, vulgar, loud-mouthed FAGGOT who will gleefully go there and say what others dare not speak. I live my life as a strong individual who apologizes to no one and would die happy right now even at the hands of a homophobe because I have done exactly as I chose... not drowned in maudlin.

I've learned to love the sissy-boy, the boi, the femmy man, the drag queen and the tranny alike because they all live inside me. Sometimes when I walk down the street I imagine I'm a beautiful transwoman, tall, icy blond but fire underneath, fucking FIERCE, still built like a fitness model and letting you know I am here and don't you fucking know it, fool. Sometimes I feel like the cute little Chelsea boi dancing to a pretty tune dressed in the latest trends. I listen to Judy so that also makes me the effete man. And I look the way I look because it is what I choose to be and how I am on the INSIDE---strong to a fault and intolerant of weakness.

So... as an answer to Browning---no, I don't have a problem with faggots, at all.

But I do have an issue with people who cannot see themselves and live in perpetual self-hatred. That is the ultimate suicide. It's slow... and extremely painful.

And while I dabble quite a bit in S & M, I never experience the pain that hurts and maims and makes me cry. What for? I choose to live, look forward, and laugh. And prove my naysayers wrong.

Know thyself... and the rest shall follow.